He was going to melt… Or at the very least die of heatstroke.

A light breeze danced across his skin (and it also tussled his hair like his mother had been wont to do; when she was home) but did little to alleviate the warmth of his skin.

Cedric was sitting under the shade of a large tree that stood some feet away from the forest that ran alongside the garden in the back of his house. While he didn't enjoy the coarse bark that was pressing into his back through his T-shirt the tree did provide some great shade. For the most part.

He breathed out through his nose, pressing the bottle of ice cold water in his hand to his forehead. He could feel beads of sweat making their way down his face.

"Ninx." His voice was barely a croak.

He took a deep swig from his bottle and tried again. "Ninx!"

The only Diggory family house-elf popped into existence in front of him, wide cobalt eyes catching his gaze before darting away. "Yes, mister Diggory, how may Ninx help?" The slight rippling in the air around the uniform clad creature suggested that his illusion magic was at work, as always when the house-elf left the confines of the house and ventured to a place where he could be seen by muggles. Such as in the garden at that moment. St Ottery Catchpole was after all a mixed village, and the forest was a sort of natural border between the two types of (mostly) human inhabitants.

"C-could you, um… t-take the basket," Cedric swallowed some more water from his bottle, "inside please." He gestured to the empty clothes basket lying just feet in front of him. Before it was a sagging clothesline – hardly sans clothes – held in place by two wonky, peeling green sticks at each side. The window of his father's study gleamed in the cursed sun further behind his (once) young parents' attempt at muggle domesticity.

"Of course, mister Diggory."

"Thank you."

The elf departed with another pop, still looking fairly perplexed. Domestic jobs around, and sometimes outside of (with the use of a very powerful illusion charm), the house were his work, so when Cedric had suggested spreading out the washing (oh his mother would have been so proud – even though she was a pureblood) his hung-over father and their only house-elf had been quite bemused.

But that was just his cover. Something he needed to do to get out of the house and wait for her arrival. (Not that he hadn't wanted to get out of the house anyway.)

He hadn't sent word to her but she would come. She always did when he got off Hogwarts on holidays.

He turned so that he partly faced the forest, and he, oh - well, he prayed that she would come within the next… five minutes. And he wasn't even particularly religious.

Just then the wind carried the sound of bells to his ears. It was the familiar chimes of the church in Ottery St Catchpole. Though he could count the number of times he'd been in there on one hand and still have fingers to spare, the bells, well, they were comforting. He could remember days like this when he was younger and he'd be lying on the grass in a sort of peaceful haze, listening to the sound of the bells. Every morning – ten o'clock without fail, they'd sound. And he could feel himself slipping…

Snap!

The broken twig sounded like a thunderclap in his ears and he bolted upright, shaken from his daze.

Before he could consciously register it his eyes were darting from one tree to another, seeking to reveal to him the reason he'd been robbed of his first peaceful moment since…since… He didn't even know when!

And then he saw it.

A flash of green, darting through the trees. Svelte viridian limbs. And some sort of mossy, old fashioned clothing – like a toga...

Then it was gone.

Before he could decide if he'd imagined the being, Luna Lovegood burst out of the trees, not seeming to be in possession of her usual unearthly grace. The forest was her forte; she could navigate it like she was some sort of sprite, one with the wind. Like no one he'd ever seen before - except maybe the groundskeeper, Hagrid.

He, on the other hand had been lucky he hadn't died whenever he'd ventured into either forests, and he'd had about as much grace as an elephant. Flying was his thing.

The opposite of Luna, who had trouble not slipping off sideways once in the air, and taking off properly too.

Luna who looked like she couldn't get enough air into her lungs.

She had a thin, shallow looking cut on her pale face that curved from her nose to her cheekbone. Her orange dress was rumpled and ripped and she had a sandal on one foot and a – was that a muggle converse on the other?

He didn't realise his mouth was open until he felt his breath rattling around his dry mouth. He nearly choked on his water as it made its way down his throat.

"Mars was bright last night; did you see?"

The responses he could give rattled around in his head.

No.

I don't know what you're talking about. (He never had been a fan of astronomy.)

What are you talking about?

"Yeah, nice to see you too," Was what he said instead as he rose to greet his long-time friend, twitching lips threatening to bloom into a full-blown smile.

"Oh – I'm sorry. Hello, Cedric, how are you today?" She smiled. He smiled back. Then she asked, "Is that better?" and he laughed.

Anyone else but Luna Lovegood and that would have seemed... rude. Impertinent.

But that wasn't how she meant it. That was just how she was. And he did love that about her.

"Yeah, much. And I don't know what you're talking about… but I do have something to ask you - two things actually now." He took a deep breath as the wind tussled his hair once more. "Please don't tell me you were chasing a nymph before you got here."

Silence.

He glared at the young blonde when a minute passed.

"What?" She peered up at him as she twirled languidly towards him – seeming to have had enough of standing still in the shade of the forest. "You just told me not to tell you."

He took a minute to gather himself, his jaw clenching and unclenching a few times. Then, "They are dangerous. You know that. No – don't tell me how they were the ones who told your father about-about that sighting… of… the thing." He finished lamely with a frown. When he saw her open her mouth again to say something he picked up where he'd left off with a vigour he didn't know he had possessed. "Don't you remember that they were the ones who-who ki- lead you to…" He trailed off, a weight, like a heavy cloak settling around his narrow shoulders. It reminded Cedric of the feel of those dressy, furlined cloaks his father liked to wear to Ministry get-togethers.

Luna cocked her head coolly, her silver gaze piercing him. He resisted the urge to squirm. "I remember - I was there, don't forget, before even you."

It wasn't his fault he'd tripped over the undergrowth. He didn't possess Luna's talent for navigating forests, especially not when it was nearly dusk. It had been a half a minute before he'd been able to get up and find Luna.

Half a minute.

Thirty seconds.

It'd still made a world of difference, when she was nine and he was twelve.

"But the nymph I followed today wasn't one of them. She was from a different clan. I could tell by her face; open and honest with wider lips and a higher forehead. Not one of them."

A dreadful silence fell between them. Then she spoke softly, "I honestly wouldn't follow after their type again – not after…" Her eyes, so wide and clear turned glassy. He swallowed, unease clenching his stomach, threatening to bring up his meager, hastily eaten breakfast.

The memories wouldn't leave her (of course not – they never would). It was the same with him.

But then it wasn't his mother who'd died.

Been killed – manslaughter wasn't it, when you kill someone without meaning to? At least that's what he thought happened. The nymphs disturbing Luna's mother in the process of brewing a potion.

A potion experiment gone wrong.

Part of a children's nursery rhyme came to mind as he recalled that day:

If you go down to the woods today,
You're in for a big suprise.

Icy fingers, incongruous with the heat of the sun, trailed down his back. Mrs Lovegood – who'd insisted on him calling her auntie Arielle – would have looked as if she was sleeping if it hadn't been for the flushed skin on the right side of her body turning scaly and a bluish green colour beneath the singeing holes in her robes. It had been where the potion splashed her.

If you go down to the woods today,
You'll never believe your eyes.

A violent shudder rippled through him. He had stared in disbelief at first, with Luna not even looking up from her crouched position by her fallen mother's side. Then he heard a sound. It was Luna. "She's dead." And she had looked remarkably calm. Not even crying. And he'd gone to get help.

"And what was the other thing?" He blinked and he wasn't at the clearing by the Lovegoods house but in his garden with Luna.

"Well, that other thing… Last night I didn't notice, um, Mars because – aside from my lack of interest in Astronomy – I was, er, asleep. But before that I'd been reading up on Greek myths… it didn't help me with what I wanted to know so I decided to ask you. I-I just wanna know why exactly does everyone keep calling me Adonis?"

"Adonis?" Luna looked as if she were trying out the name on her tongue. "Handsome youth if I remember correctly…"

"Yes," He whispered, leaning forward in anticipation. "And there's also some mention of Narcissus. And the Weasleys, well, the twins got some people starting to call me," His lips twisted along with his stomach, "'pretty boy'."

Luna's eyebrows rose. She tilted her head even further and squinted at him, "I don't see it… Why, oh, why would they call you such things?"

"You mean you don't know?" For the first time in a year, since that day, Luna's presence didn't make him feel peaceful. Didn't give him some sort of respite after the attention of his peers at Hogwarts. She was as clueless as he was. He could barely discern that from her expression, and only because they'd known each other for so many years. Longer than he'd been flying on broomsticks.

"No…" Luna drew the word out. "But – I think you should check for signs of Wrackspurt infestations. Let it fester and – it gets serious." Her whisper had taken on an almost conspiratorial tone.

He laughed, the weight lifting off his shoulders ever so slightly.

"Ooh, perhaps I should give you the owl order for a nice shop in Paris; they sell wonderful kits for getting rid of wrackspurts."

As I said in the previous chap the prompt is as follows: 'In your story, you must address a certain moment in your character's life, in which at least one of your chosen color's attributes are addressed.'

I got the colour blue so I needed to write a fic in which Cedric displays/represents/somehow addresses youth, spirituality, truth, and peace. And I had to use at least one of the prompts.